


Perpetual Motion

by tyrsenian



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Introspection, slight J/C, uh yeah mostly just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrsenian/pseuds/tyrsenian
Summary: She wears these fragile wings and she flies too close to the sun.





	Perpetual Motion

This was never part of the plan.

He’s not sure, exactly, what that plan used to be. Get the crew home? That creed was hers, is hers. He’s always been more concerned with their immediate survival. At least, that’s what he tells himself each time they argue. Because he’s being practical and because, as far as he’s concerned, home is a relative term.

He opens his eyes, letting the harsh glare of the lighting in sickbay distract him from this train of thought. She’s lying across from him, pale and motionless but indisputably alive. Which was more than he could say of her in that shuttle. 

When he had accepted the position of first officer of this ship, all those years ago, he thought he understood the dangers associated with the role. He had known that it would be his duty to advise and protect the captain to the best of his ability. He had anticipated, on occasion, waking on a biobed and immediately seeking to confirm that everything was in order. He hadn’t expected to start checking for the captain’s presence as he would his own limbs, because if he was in here then it was almost certain she would be as well. He hadn’t expected the aching relief each time he saw that she was alright, or the constant dread that she wouldn’t be so lucky the next time. 

He had understood that he would have to care about the well-being of his captain, but he hadn’t thought he would grow to care quite so deeply about the woman behind the rank. And he sure as hell hadn’t expected that caring would be this painful.

\---

His childhood house had a bookshelf dedicated to the mythologies of other cultures, and he remembers being particularly fascinated with the ancient Greeks. He’d admired as a young man the way religion and technology had blended in their stories, had been captivated by the arrogance and the imperfections and the humanity of their heroes. From the first time he heard it though, he’d been bothered by the story of Icarus. How stupid did that kid have to be to ignore his father’s warnings and fly so high up? There was so much space between the sun and the ocean, he once thought.

He remembers the first time he saw himself as the child with the wax wings. He’d been training as a Starfleet pilot, had been in one of those simulations designed to test judgement in addition to technical skill. He was tasked with delivering supplies to a remote colony beyond an asteroid field; a simple enough task until he discovered the enemy ships lying in wait. The captain had asked him if he could make it through-- if could confidently say that he could dodge both the rocks and the enemy fire-- or if they should cut their losses and head back. And Chakotay had said he could do it. He thought was capable of completing the mission, thought he had to be.

He wasn’t.

The space between hubris and cowardice had always seemed so wide, so well-defined in theory. In stories. In hindsight. Until that moment when he was suddenly back in the holodeck, his simulated ship destroyed, he hadn’t understood quite how easily the two could be conflated. How easily the fear of displaying weakness, of lacking bravery, could be used to convince yourself that the dangers you faced were necessary. 

For the first time, he wondered whether Icarus had flown so high because he had been afraid of the sea. 

All these years later, each time he tries to dissuade his captain from pursuing some reckless course of action, he thinks of Icarus. At first, he suspected she leapt at such dangerous missions because she was afraid of drowning. And maybe, in those early years, that had been true. Maybe, as a young captain who’d just stranded two ships a lifetime from home, she had needed to convince her crew and herself that she fully intended to keep her word.

He’s come to suspect that she’s gotten used to the heat. That she’s convinced herself the softening wax is nothing to worry about. He watches her drift higher, and it terrifies him because he understands, because he’s struggled with this his whole life, and because it seems he can never quite reach her. 

He’ll be damned if he stops trying though. Because his current plan involves both of them making it to somewhere they can call home.

And so he waits until she’s woken and has finally stopped grilling the doctor on the wellbeing of her crew. And then he takes her hand and pulls her just a little closer to the earth.

**Author's Note:**

> So after creeping around the fanfic sites for a while, here is my first attempt at a Voyager fic! I would greatly appreciate any feedback you have to offer, particularly if anything feels out of character or if the piece as a whole seems disjointed. I'd love to get better at writing for this fandom!


End file.
